novelraw Chapter 090 5, I'll take it.
Chapter 090 5, I'll take it.
The auction has entered its second half.
Previous auction items, including Qing Dynasty porcelain vases and calligraphy by famous artists, have fetched considerable prices.
But in Wen Ning's eyes, those were just meaningless numbers.
She huddled in the shadows of the corner, like a frightened ostrich, hoping that this agonizing dinner would end soon.
"The next item in the auction is rather special."
The auctioneer's voice came through the microphone, carrying a hint of mystery.
"This is an oil painting by an anonymous artist from overseas, titled 'Rainy Night'."
The lights went out.
A spotlight shone on the display stand.
The red cloth was lifted.
A small oil painting, but with vibrant colors, appeared before everyone's eyes.
The screen is very dark.
Vast expanses of cool colors—the deep blue night sky and the pitch-black rain curtain.
The streetlights cast a dim yellow light, lengthening the shadows on the ground.
In the center of the painting, there is only the back view of a man.
He stood alone in the downpour, without an umbrella, completely soaked.
Although the face was not clearly visible, the profound loneliness and despair emanating from that figure seemed to penetrate the canvas and strike straight to the heart.
Wen Ning's breath caught in her throat the moment she saw the painting.
How did I end up here?
She painted this picture that winter when she arrived in Paris.
That day was New Year's Eve.
She huddled alone in the drafty attic, suffering from a persistent high fever and driven mad by longing.
Based on her memory, she drew a picture of Jiang Ci waiting for her downstairs at the dormitory on that rainy night.
Later, in order to pay for rent and medical expenses, she had to sell it to an unknown gallery on the roadside for a low price of two hundred euros.
She thought the painting had long since been lost to some unknown corner of the world.
did not expect.
It actually traveled across the ocean and appeared at the most prestigious auction in City A.
"Although the artist of this painting is unknown, the style is delicate and the emotions are rich."
The auctioneer began to stir emotions.
Starting bid: 100,000.
One hundred thousand.
For the powerful and wealthy people present, it was nothing more than the cost of a meal.
But for Wen Ning now, it's an astronomical figure.
but.
She couldn't let the painting remain unclaimed.
We absolutely cannot let this painting fall into Jiang Ci's hands—if he sees it, if he recognizes that figure as himself, if he recognizes that familiar brushstroke…
The consequences could be disastrous.
We must buy it back.
Even if it means begging Zhou Xu for money, they will buy it back.
Then destroy it.
"110,000."
Someone casually held up a sign.
"120,000."
There weren't many people bidding.
Since it was the work of an unknown painter, everyone was not very interested.
Wen Ning's hands were trembling.
She touched the bank card in her bag.
There are only 210,000 inside.
It was all her savings.
The price had already reached 180,000.
No one raised their placard anymore.
"180,000 per time."
"180,000 twice..."
Wen Ning bit her lip until it bled.
She suddenly raised the number plate in her hand.
The voice wasn't loud, but it conveyed a sense of resolute determination, as if it were a desperate gamble.
Two hundred thousand.
The entire room fell silent for a moment.
Everyone turned to look at the poorly dressed woman hiding in the corner.
Someone recognized her.
"That's... Wen Ning?"
"That down-on-her-luck heiress?"
"They still have money to buy paintings? Looks like the Zhou family isn't completely finished yet."
Whispers arose.
Wen Ning lowered her head and gripped the number plate tightly.
She prayed in her heart:
Don't add any more.
Please, please stop adding more.
This is all the money I have.
The auctioneer clearly hadn't expected such a surprise.
He paused for a moment, then raised the hammer.
Two hundred thousand.
"This young lady offered 200,000."
"Anything with an extra charge?"
A silence.
Spending 200,000 yuan on an anonymous painting is clearly not worthwhile.
"Two hundred thousand per time."
"Two hundred thousand twice."
Wen Ning's heart pounded wildly.
We're almost there.
As soon as the hammer falls...
The auctioneer raised his hand high.
"Two hundred thousand..."
Just as the mallet was about to strike the table.
A voice.
A deep, magnetic voice, cold as ice, yet so familiar that it sent shivers down Wen Ning's spine.
Suddenly, it came from the direction of the VIP room on the second floor.
The sound wasn't loud.
Yet it seemed to carry an absolute pressure, instantly drowning out the sound of breathing throughout the entire venue.
Five million.
An understatement.
It's as if they're not talking about money, but about dust.
"Clang—"
The number plate in Wen Ning's hand suddenly lost its grip and fell to the ground.
It makes a crisp sound.
The entire room fell silent.
It was even a hundred times quieter than when Wen Ning made his bid.
Everyone was stunned.
Five million?
Two hundred thousand jumps directly to five million?
Which deity descended to earth to shower us with money?
Or is this painting hiding Leonardo da Vinci's code?
The auctioneer's hand trembled, and he almost dropped the gavel.
His voice trembled with excitement:
"Five...five million! The VIP on the second floor has bid five million!"
"Is anyone else bidding higher?"
No one spoke.
Who would dare to bid against such a madman?
Wen Ning sat on the sofa.
My blood was flowing backwards.
cold.
Bone-chilling cold.
She doesn't need to look up.
No need to look.
She knew who it was just by hearing the voice.
It's him.
he came.
And... he recognized him.
Wen Ning's neck stiffened, and she didn't even dare to turn around to look at the direction of the second floor.
She just wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear into a crack in the ground.
"Five million three times."
"make a deal!"
"Bang!"
A hammer is fixed.
That painting is now his.
And her last fig leaf was shattered by this hammer blow.
Next to the railing of the private room on the second floor.
A tall figure in a black suit slowly emerged from the shadows.
He had one hand in his pocket.
Looking down from a high vantage point.
Those deep, cold eyes didn't even glance at the painting worth five million.
His gaze.
Like a cold laser beam.
We walked through the crowds.
Passing through the dazzling lights.
Precisely, relentlessly.
The focus was on the pale-faced, trembling woman in the corner.
That was the look in a hunter's eyes when he saw his prey fall into the net.
cruel.
Jest.
It also carried a chilling madness that had been suppressed for three years.
"I want it."
He watched that figure from behind and silently moved his lips.
I want the painting.
people.
I want one too.